Take Care Matthew
by darthsydious
Summary: Matthew and William bid everyone goodbye to leave for the war. Matthew/Sybil. No longer a one-shot! Matthew and Sybil are engaged now, but he and William go missing. How will Sybil take it?
1. Chapter 1

"Take care, Matthew."

"I will."

"Be sure to write, when you can." Cora said, and he promised he would. "You've said goodbye to your mother?"

"Yes, this morning," he said,

"She had to leave early for the hospital. We've all got our duties now." He tried to smile but failed.

"Where is Sybil?" he asked suddenly, realizing the youngest Crawley was not among the group gathered outside Downton Abbey.

"She was supposed to be here," Robert said, "She sent a note home late last night, she would try her best to be here by morning."

"Can't you stay a little longer?" Cora asked, "I'm sure she can't be too long."

"I wish we could." Matthew said, "As it is I suppose I'm lucky they haven't sent me my orders sooner." Sudden footfalls made them all start; they turned to see young William heading out of the service quarters, carrying his pack, and a picnic basket.

"Sorry I'm late sir," he said to Matthew, "Mrs. Patmore insisted she pack us a lunch for the train." There were a few smiles attempted to be hidden amongst servants and family. Matthew glanced at Mary, who swiftly looked away, averting her eyes quickly.

"Well…" he said finally. "I suppose- I suppose we'd better be going." He bent to press Mary's cheek, but she ducked her head,

"Godspeed." She muttered her tears evident. Attempting to brush off his hurt, he put a smile on for Edith, quickly kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly

"Tell me how you and Sir Anthony get on." He said softly to her, and she smiled a little nodding. "I'm sure I could use good news."

"Yes I will." She said, squeezing his hand tightly. Matthew turned to Cora, who held him as a mother might,

"Be careful," she said in his ear, and she stepped back, pride and fear shining in her eyes. When it came to Robert, Matthew was suddenly at a loss. Robert had become so much more than a distant cousin, acting almost as a father to him.

"I expect Pharaoh will have to keep you company on your daily walks." Matthew said finally, Robert nodded, unable to speak for a moment before hugging him outright. He stepped aside, "William,"

"I wanted to thank your Lordship, for helping me get this post." he made to bow as usual, but Robert grasped his hand instead.

"You take care, be careful. I'm sure you'll make us very proud."

"I will sir, thank you for everything."

"You've always a place here at Downton, no matter what. Come home to us son." William was startled by the term of endearment, and he tried not to let the fear in his eyes show. He _wanted_ to make Lord Grantham proud.

"Thank you sir. I'll remember." With that, Matthew and William climbed into the carriage, slapping the reigns they started off, down the drive, the family and staff waving kerchiefs goodbye.

**Train Station**

"Note from Lady Sybil said she'd see us off from the station."

"Our train leaves at 9:15, it's already ten past." Matthew said, scanning the crowds for his youngest cousin.

"Yes sir." William seemed nervous, shifting from foot-to-foot. "She'll be in her uniform too sir."

"Hm." The porter appeared on the platform, blowing a piercing whistle

"All aboard!" he called, Matthew and William exchanged unhappy glances, but started for the train, carefully looking through the crowds, all a sea of uniforms and weeping ladies hanging on their sweethearts, whole families had come to say goodbye.

"I guess she couldn't come." William said, and Matthew nodded. He was more than a little upset, after all Sybil was his cousin, and of all of the Crawley ladies, he got on best with her. Six month ago, he would have said it would be Mary he wanted most to write to, but ever since the garden party, her demeanor was cool and reserved, and twice as uncomfortable as before. He'd hoped that with the stirring conflict going on, and the prospect of him leaving, perhaps forever, would help her make up her mind whether or not she wanted him. Instead it seemed only to make her less and less appealed by the idea. He'd been one of the first to sign up, but he wasn't sent directly to war. He was sent off for training, he and William together. It was Sybil who'd written to him, and urged him to tell her all about what he was learning and how things were going. Their letters back and forth from camp to home and back became a lifeline for Matthew, keeping him tethered to Downton, but without the pomp and circumstance. He knew Sybil treated his letters with utmost discretion, and she wouldn't share them unnecessarily. She seemed genuinely interested in what he was being taught (nothing spectacular, he swore to her all they learned was how to make a bed neat enough to bounce pennies on them, and how to peel potatoes. She told him in turn, how she learned to fix the cars, and that she volunteered at the hospital. Wounded from the front overloaded London hospitals, so nearby villages and towns were taking them. Downton was one such medical facility. Matthew had become rather fond of his cousin, of her being quite sensible, and setting aside her personal affairs, namely her votes for women campaign to help the war effort.

"Ticket, soldier." A voice above him disturbed him from his thoughts. Stepping up onto the train, he gave the porter his ticket. He turned giving one last once over of the crowd. Unhappily, he stepped into the corridor, finding his and William's compartment. In a few minutes, the train let out a piercing whistle; it started the chug slowly down the tracks, crawling away from the platform.

"Wait! Wait!" William looked up

"What was that?" Matthew looked out the window, hope brimming. He scanned the crowds, the gates holding back loved ones, all frantically waving hats and kerchiefs. No one stood out.

"I don't know."

"William! Matthew!" a familiar voice was shouting above the roar of the train, they flew to the window, rolling it down to poke their heads out just in time to see Sybil jump the gate, escaping a police officer's grasp. Her coat flapped behind her as she sprinted down the gangway, her hand clutching her hat, she still wore her apron from the hospital.

"Sybil!" he called back, truly shocked. Her petticoats kicked up around her knees as she pounded down the platform, trying to catch up to his window. Other windows were rolled down, cheers going up from the soldiers, waving her on; one telling her he'd get the letter up to Matthew if she wanted. "Sybil what are you doing?" Matthew shouted,

"Take this-" she was calling, the train let out another shrill whistle as she spoke, and they were picking up speed. Matthew stretched out to meet her half-way, the tips of his fingers barely grasped the paper, she gave one final lunge, and he grabbed for the letter. As soon as she'd released it, she went sprawling, unable to keep up with the train, her burst of adrenaline gone. For a moment he was afraid she'd rolled off the platform. Managing to fit most of his shoulders out the window, he peered through the smoke to see her picking herself up, hat gone now. Out of breath, she waved frantically, tears evident. "Come back-" she shouted, whatever else she said was cut off by another shrill whistle from the train.

"I will!" he waved the letter in his hand at her, showing her he caught it.

"Open it!" she shouted. Tearing the paper, he tipped it over his hand, out fell a whistle. He looked at her, shocked. She nodded, trying to compose herself. Confused, he wondered what it was for when suddenly he remembered. Sybil told him when she was little she used to wear a whistle on a long chain, a gift from Carson. Once she'd fallen out of one of the hazel trees in the orchard and broke her ankle. No one seemed to hear her calling, so she blew the whistle until someone came to help. Putting it to his lips, he blew as hard as he could; Sybil had reached the edge of the platform, waving her hat to him,

"Goodbye, goodbye!" she cried.

"I'll be back!" he shouted. He waited until she was out of sight. He and William rolled the window up again, sitting down with heavy sighs. The letter was crumpled from him holding onto it. Reaching under his collar, he tugged at the twine around his neck, undoing the knot, two discs, one red and one green, clinked together as he slid the whistle over the string to hang down with the tags. Tucking back under his shirt, he sat back, feeling the cold metal against his skin, wondering if he'd ever need to use it.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't like the idea of just ending it where Matthew and Sybil part, so I've decided to add a couple chapters! Matthew and Sybil are engaged now. He and William go missing. Thanks for reading! - darthsydious

* * *

><p><strong>December, 1916<strong>

The concert hall was crowded with men in uniform. Amid all this olive-greenery were quite a few ladies besides, decked out in subdued tones, the brightest of these was perhaps a pinkish mauve. There was merry talk and music playing. No alcohol was served, following the custom laid down by the Royal Family since the start of the war. Instead servers mingled amongst the guests with trays of glasses of water. No one really complained, or if they did, it was quietly done. No one wanted to be heard complaining of nothing to drink, after all there was a war on, and more important things were happening than a lack of liquor. Lord Grantham was amongst the men, speaking of whatever news he had heard of that the others hadn't. Every now and again, he would look across the room, catching his wife's eye, and smile gently to her. After a little while, he excused himself, and crossed the hall, moving to her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked

"Yes of course."

"Worrying for the girls won't help." He said quietly,

"I dislike them all alone in the house with all those soldiers."

"They aren't alone; the servants are there as well. Carson said that Branson was nearby, and Bates is awake too."

"It worries me that Bates feels the need to stay awake." She murmured, the conductor got up, signaling the orchestra and singers were ready. Robert ushered her to their seats. "He knows what soldiers are like." She whispered as the lights dimmed a little.

"Be calm." He murmured back "Bates only said he would because he knew you were nervous." The soprano had already begun with an aria from Puccini's _Tosca_.

"I am sure something will go wrong." She whispered "I can't help but feel it." He took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He decided against chiding her feelings. Before he could tell her at least to enjoy her favourite aria, a man in uniform tapped his arm,

"Telephone for you, M'lord." He patted his wife's arm and said he would be a moment. Already paying attention now to the singer, she nodded absently. Cora loved this particular opera, perhaps because it was the first time she had met Robert. It was during _Vissi d'arte _she'd caught his eye across the opera house. As the moment approached, she reached for his hand, as she often did, and suddenly remembered he had gone to answer the telephone. But he should've been back by now. Craning her neck, she turned around, trying to see past all the people through the glass windows in the doors. She could just make out Robert's frame, his head bowed, telephone in his hand. He looked up, and she could read his expression- fear. Instantly she was on her feet, not caring if she disturbed anyone or not. She came through the doors; one of the servers caught them just before they slammed shut. Robert stood by the phone, the call apparently over.

"Robert…" he looked up, startled. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears trickling down his face. "Robert in heaven's name what is it?" her heart raced, she attempted to brace herself for the worse.

"Matthew-"

"No!" she covered her mouth, the room seemed to spin, and through her mind's eye she could see a funeral, all of them in black, Matthew's name etched on a monument. Would there be a body to put in the ground? Robert's voice called her back to the present, and she realized she had not heard him. "What?" she asked, part of what he said registered,

"Matthew is missing…he and William were on a patrol I am told they believe they were both captured." It was almost as bad a having to bury them. Shaking, she attempted some kind of affirmation that they would be alright, but nothing came out. "My son is missing." Robert gasped out. This sudden declaration startled Cora and she began to weep. He gathered her in his arms, clutching her to his breast. Applause from the hall startled her, and she realized the aria was over. A chorus was assembling, and the band struck up, this time a merry patriotic tune.

"I want to go home." She said, "Robert please lets go home." He nodded,

"Yes…that would be best." He released her long enough to reach for the telephone and send for Branson. Just as he hung up the telephone he saw the front doors shut, Cora heading outside. "Cora!" he called after her, a footman handed him his coat, saluting him quickly as he left.

Out in the cold night air Cora started walking.

"Cora!" hearing Robert shout after her she stopped, turning. He was pulling his coat on, running as he did so. Settling the collar at his neck, he caught up with her, "Dearest come back inside at least, it's far too cold."

"I want to walk a little." She said. He blew out a small sigh, his breath coming out in foggy puffs.

"I suppose we could meet Branson on the road." He said, "For heaven's sake button your coat!"

"Oh." She murmured as he did up the front for her. He turned up her collar, closing the clasp at her neck, velvet and rabbit fur pressed against her neck and cheeks.

"Are you warm enough in this flimsy thing?" he asked, knowing ladies coats weren't made for warmth but fashion.

"Yes I'm fine." She said. "I can't seem to feel the cold." He took her arm in his, enclosing her hand in his. Placing his hat on his head they started down the empty street.

"It may not be as bad as we think it is." He said finally. "We can't assume anything, not right now."

"How long did they say?" Cora asked "I mean before they noticed Matthew and William were gone."

"They didn't report in after their patrol. Another went out to look, and it was decided the nearby enemy camp must have taken them."

"Do you think…" she swallowed hard "Do you think they'll shoot them?" he almost stopped then, he looked at his feet then at her.

"We don't know anything yet, and it's no good speculating on what may or may not happen. You'll make yourself sick otherwise." She understood he didn't want to think of these possibilities now, "We know they are alive, and we will continue to refer to them as such until we hear otherwise."

"We must tell the girls." She said after a moment, "Sybil mustn't hear of it from anyone else." He had not even thought…of course she must know of her fiancé's condition.

"Yes. I will tell her." Cora squeezed his arm. They walked for some time in silence, their shoes crunching along the snow-crusted street. Eventually they reached the edge of town, and they paused here. He noticed her shivering. Without a word, he stripped off his heavy wool army coat and draped it over her

"Robert you'll freeze!" she started

"I'm warm enough." He said, securing the great coat about her. "Anyway I hear a car, it must be Branson."

"That could be from miles away." She scolded. Ignoring that, he took her arm again, and she tucked herself closer to him.

"Nonsense, I can see the headlights." He said. In a little while, as they kept on moving toward the two shining lights, they could see finally that it was indeed Branson. Upon seeing them walking, he pulled on the brake, fairly leaping out of the car as it stopped.

"I'm sorry your Lordship, I thought I was going fast enough on the roads, they're a touch icy I didn't realize-"

"We decided to meet you." Robert said. "If you will give your arm to her Ladyship, she's quite frozen, no matter what she insists." Branson obeyed, helping Lady Grantham over to the car.

"We must get home as quickly as you can manage." Cora said, and Branson nodded as he cranked the engine. Turning car around, they started back down the road towards Downton.

~O~

"Mama!" Mary met them as they came through the door. Carson was taking their coats, "The concert can't be over already, it's only just after eight."

"Your father had a telephone call."

"Where is Sybil?" Robert asked, his cheeks still red with cold. Mary looked at her parents, realizing some great thing must have happened, something terribly bad for them to leave so suddenly.

"In the drawing room." Mary said, he started immediately for it, "I think Edith is with her-" but he was already out of earshot "Mama what is it?" she asked "What's happened?" Edith came from the drawing room, shutting the door behind her.

"Why is Papa so upset?" Cora shook her head

"Your father will say in a moment, Carson-" she turned to the butler "Will you be good enough to gather the staff?" his eyebrows raised at this, but he nodded

"Yes My Lady."

**Foyer**

The door to the drawing room opened, and in the doorway stood Lord Grantham and Lady Sybil. He touched her cheek and pressed her forehead before she stepped away, passing by the crowd. Cora glanced from her husband to her daughter's retreating form. Robert saw and nodded to Cora to see to her. Edith and Mary exchanged curious and worried looks as their father came to stand in the foyer with the rest of the staff.

"I received a call…from headquarters this evening." Robert began "It seems that while on patrol, Matthew and William have both gone missing." A collective gasp went up from the group. Edith reached for Mary's hand; she looked over at her, seeing she was bowing her head. "We will keep you all informed if we receive any more information on their whereabouts." He said, glancing up at the stairway. "Thank you." He said. Quite a bit more somberly, the staff began to disperse. Daisy, the youngest of the staff stood beside Mrs. Patmore, her little hands fidgeting.

"Your Lordship." Daisy spoke up,

"Yes Daisy?"

"Is- is there a chance…a chance they will be found?" she asked. "Do people go missing often?" the staff all stopped where they were now. Carson began to chide her, but Robert stopped her.

"They do, I'm afraid." Lord Grantham said, "But more often than not, they are found again. We shan't lose hope for Matthew or William."

"Yes your Lordship." She murmured, and Anna took her arm, bringing her down with the others.

"The staff share your sentiments your Lordship." Carson said, "And we are all praying that Mr. Crawley and young William are found soon." Robert nodded his thanks, Carson lingered a moment more.

"What is it Carson?"

"I wish…" he frowned now, quite unused to speaking what exactly he thought before Lord Grantham. "I wish if you would be willing…I wish for you to convey our thoughts to Lady Sybil…we hope she will not have to wait long, nor worry a great deal for Mr. Crawley." Robert smiled a little at this.

"Thank you Carson, I shall tell her you said so."

* * *

><p><strong>March 1917<strong>

Every time the post came, everyone wondered- was that something from the Army? Was it about Matthew or William? Would they ever be found? Whenever a telegram came, Carson headed off at a good trot, everyone praying it was, or perhaps even it wasn't about Matthew.

"We would have heard something by now." Edith murmured one night at dinner. "We should have."

"That's not true." Sybil began, "Post gets lost all the time."

"Not all the time, surely." Violet said. "Heavens if that's the case I'm owed a great deal more invitations."

"Edith is right." Robert said suddenly, and everyone stared. "It has been over four months, the army would have sent us word, or Matthew would have sent us a letter." Sybil set her napkin down.

"Well I won't believe it. I can't believe it." She said stoutly

"Sybil-" Cora began

"No I-I really don't think that anyone could be missing and no one has seen or heard from them! They could be in a German prison, or wounded in a hospital and can't write to us-"

"Sybil, please-" Robert began but she'd already put down her napkin and stood up.

"I'm sorry." she excused herself, giving Robert no time to stand for her.

~O~

**Veranda**

The doors opened and closed, Sybil glanced behind, sighing angrily.

"I thought you were too old to sulk." He said, coming to lean against the balustrade with her.

"I thought you never gave up on people." She said, looking at her hands. He bowed his head.

"Sometimes…I do. When I think I've a good reason."

"You didn't give up on Bates, even when he was framed for stealing, or when he left service."

"That was different."

"Well it isn't to me!" Sybil said "Everyone thinks that Matthew isn't coming back, that he and William are dead, and I should just accept it- well I won't!" she shoved at the railing. "I won't believe it and you can't tell me I will!" a little shocked at her outburst, he stepped forward "I won't accept it, not even if the whole Army walked up the drive with his body I won't!" hysterical, she pushed away from him as he took her arm.

"Sybil- Sybil!" he soothed, taking her by her shoulders. She resisted at first, sobbing

"I won't!" she cried, before collapsing against him,

"Oh my dearest girl, no one's going to make you," he stroked her hair, "No one could even if they tried. It's honourable and good that you do so faithfully. I know Matthew will do whatever he can to come back." Her tears abated for a moment. "Your Mama and I simply-" he sighed a little. "We don't want to see you hurt, if he _doesn't_ come back."

"I know you only mean to prepare me for what might happen," she sniffled, looking up at him. "But Papa, I don't think I could face that option, not yet." She shook her head "I've never been so afraid of anything as a life without Matthew." And she burst into tears again.

"Oh my Sybil," he murmured, and he held her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. There were no words to comfort her, so he let her cry, soothing her as best as a father could.


	3. Chapter 3

_****The final installment of this short story. Time passes, and Sybil grows anxious. Drama ensues. Enjoy! - darthsydious_

**April, 1917**

Tapping a cigarette against the case, Thomas reached for his matches as he pushed open the door to the servant's courtyard, sighing a little, ready for fifteen minutes of peace before the next rush of patients from the hospital came. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here, so he was rather surprised to see one of the family members leaning against the doorframe.

"Ladyship." Thomas was startled, "I beg pardon…I didn't know anyone was out here."

"It's alright, I probably shouldn't be out here anyway." She had pulled off her nurse's veil, it hung tucked into the back of her apron, which was already stained from work. He pocketed his cigarettes and bowed, beginning to leave "Thomas?"

"Yes Lady Sybil?"

"How is everyone downstairs? Do they believe that William and Matthew will come back?" Thomas thought for a moment, it was a question he hadn't expected at all. He had hoped she would ask for tea, and he'd be able to tell her he'd speak to one of the maids for her, since he didn't work for the family anymore. But then Lady Sybil was different from the others. He might've felt guilty for telling her off.

"I don't know." He said. "I can't speak for the staff. I expect that the army will let us know if anything happens."

"You were on the front Thomas, you know what it's like." Sybil took a step forward, "Do you think there's any hope?" she asked. Thomas found himself caught in a difficult position. He shifted, wondering if he ought to tell her the truth or simply lie and tell her that her fiancé would be fine. "I only ask," she took another step forward "Because you're different from the other servants." Now he felt even more uncomfortable, and worried. "I'm sorry, that sounds rude, I don't mean to be." She frowned, folding her hands. "I mean you seem to be very honest, you wouldn't lie…not if it really mattered." Thomas felt himself straighten a little, bowing his head. He'd never felt guilty before, and found himself a little angry that it was a lady who'd made him feel such.

"I don't think there's much chance, no." He said finally. "That's my opinion." He said. She nodded slowly, "It doesn't mean it's right." Forcing a smile, she looked up at him.

"No of course not." Pulling her hands apart she tried to keep her frame relaxed. "We must all keep up hope for both of them. For all of them." He fiddled with his pocket, his glove catching. "How is your hand?" she asked, "Any trouble with it?" he looked down at it, the disfigurement permanent.

"Not much, milady."

"How did it happen?" he was quiet, eyes shifting.

"Sniper."

"Yes, they told me." Something in her eyes disturbed him, as if she were studying him. Thomas didn't like it, and he thought of several lies to tell her, that he was carrying a man back to the trench, or he'd got it on patrol. But the only image that flashed through his head was looking up at the lighter in his hand, and the noise of the gun. The feel of the bullet hitting its mark. "They tell me some men have their hands hurt on purpose, to get away from the fighting." Thomas felt sick all of a sudden, he couldn't look anywhere near her. He tried to force himself to, to appear casual.

"Yes I suppose some do." He croaked.

"A lot of people call them cowards…they turn them into the army, for sentence."

"Do you agree with them, my lady?" he asked, finally looking up at her. She was still looking at him, tears in her eyes.

"I do." She said. Thomas wanted to run, to get as far away from Lady Sybil and her accusing eyes. But he couldn't. "But I don't think turning them in is the right thing to do either." He stared. "I think they shouldn't be given the mercy of a simple shooting." For a moment he nearly laughed.

"Would you prefer torture, my lady?"

"No." she looked insulted, shaking her head. "I'd rather they live with their guilt. It's punishment enough." She made to leave again, but this time Thomas caught her elbow, she turned with a start and he let go immediately. Bowing his head and taking a step back,

"Lady Sybil," he murmured, "I- I hope you wouldn't think that I would ever do-"

"I know how you are." She said softly, and he looked up at her, "Perhaps a sniper did get you on patrol. Or perhaps you weren't on patrol when it happened. Perhaps you were just frightened." He felt his hands shaking, but he couldn't look away from her "Perhaps you just needed a way out, and- and fear sometimes makes a way for us, one that will have consequences later on." He felt his chin wobble, he clenched his lips together. He felt his eyes twitch, something wet rolled down his cheek. "I'm not trying to threaten you," her tone was warm, barely above a whisper. "I just wanted you to know that I could understand…if you did such a thing…but it would be very difficult for me to forgive you." He felt himself nod shakily. When she had gone inside, the door shut behind her, Thomas began to walk. He clenched his hands as he nearly jogged out to the outer courtyard, leaning against the stables before giving way to bitter tears.

~O~

**Upstairs**

Giving her glove one last tug, Edith knocked on Sybil's door,

"Sybil, I'm going down, are you ready?"

"Yes…I'll be down in a moment." Edith paused, she looked back at the sound of Mary's door opening and closing.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't know, she sounded upset." Her older sister had no reservations and stepped forward

"Are you alright dear?"

"Yes! I said I would be down in a moment." Something smashing startled them both, and Mary pushed the door open, Edith close behind. Sybil was on her hands and knees, trying to soak up a broken bottle of perfume. A box of powder had fallen over, clouding the vanity.

"Good heavens- shut the door, before Mama sees." And Edith obeyed before moving to her sister's side.

"Sybil-" Mary began, but before she could even speak again her sister had given way to tears, still attempting to save the rug. "Darling you're making a bigger mess-"

"I don't care- my god what is a rug anyway to what's happening?" she flung the soaked blouse across the room, sitting back on her heels. She wiped her eyes, suddenly looking at the mess as if for the first time. "Oh dear God, Mama will have my head." She began to cry again, "What a mess- what's the matter with me?"

"It will be alright." Edith said quickly, she tugged on the pull, ringing for Anna. "We can clean it up, Mama won't even have to know."

"Sybil, leave it; tell me what's the matter." Mary said, taking her sister's shoulders. Edith was beginning to sweep the powder off the vanity, watching Sybil from the corner of her eye.

"I'm so angry, so angry at myself Mary…"

"Whatever for?"

"I thought…I thought I could believe that he was coming…I really did. I want to keep hoping but I can't." Mary didn't know what to say at first. "Every day he doesn't come home I get so angry, so angry at this war and him for going and- and I don't know what to do but I know I hate feeling like this!"

"Oh my darling…you mustn't feel that way…you're only human after all."

"I don't want to feel as if it's alright!" Sybil cried "It's not…what would he think? What would he think if he knew? Mary you loved him-"

"Darling that was years ago- things were different."

"If you thought for a moment he would come back to you- wouldn't you want to keep believing he would?" Mary sat back down, she glanced at Edith, then back at Sybil.

"I don't hope in impossibilities." Mary said, quite sure of herself. Her voice was steady, and her eyes were warm. "There isn't hope of Matthew coming back, not for me anyway." She wiped the streak of powder from Sybil's cheek. "But I know he would move heaven and earth to come back to you. It may just take time." Slowly, she nodded, wiping her eyes. There was a small knock on the door before Anna poked her head in.

"Anna, come in, shut the door quickly." Edith said "There was an accident, we wonder if you could clean it up." Anna was looking at Sybil, picking herself up amid talcum powder, broken glass and a flowery-smelling carpet.

"Yes of course milady."

"Let me help you-" Sybil murmured, hands shaking as she began to pick up the glass pieces,

"I think someone had better help _you_." Mary said, "Edith, fetch her a different dress, quickly, we can have her ready in a moment." She wiped Sybil's face, "Dry your eyes, you don't want anybody to know you've been crying for a silly boy." Mary said, and Sybil smiled a little at her teasing. Edith laid out a clean frock, and Sybil turned, seeing it was her turquoise Indian trousers, the one that had shocked her father, and made Matthew's eyes twinkle when he saw her in it for the first time. Mary was about to reprimand Edith but Sybil was smiling.

"His favourite." She murmured, before turning her back to Mary "Here help me get changed. If we hurry we'll just make it." The dinner gong rang just as they were finishing, Sybil squeezed their hands, thanking them before they filed out of the room.

"I don't think Mama needs to know about Sybil tonight." Mary said to Anna. The maid nodded.

"Yes your ladyship." She folded the soiled laundry over her arm, starting back downstairs.

~O~

**Downstairs**

Daisy didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular as she began to set the table. Mr. Bates was still upstairs, cleaning up after dressing Lord Grantham, Anna wasn't anywhere to be found. Miss O'Brian came down the stairs, sighing heavily.

"…as if I want to make one more trip upstairs!" she grumbled

"It was just a question!" Ethel's distant voice further up the stairs called before the door slammed. Miss O'Brian had stopped paying attention to the maid by the time she'd reached the table and sat down. Now she noticed Daisy standing with the silverware tray, but instead of laying them out she just held it.

"What's with you?" she asked, opening up her sewing kit.

"Nothing." She said quickly, and began laying out the forks and knives. "It's just…it's been so long-" O'Brian rolled her eyes.

"We'll get news when we get news. Lordship told us that."

"Yes but it's just that it's been so long, I'm starting to think we'll never hear anything. Don't you worry that something's happened to them?"

"Course I do." O'Brian said, looking up from waxing the thread in her hands. "But worrying never did the day's work."

"Amen." Thomas said, coming in the back door. He looked tired and red-eyed.

"I was thinking…maybe of lighting a candle for William." Daisy said.

"A what?"

"A candle. I'm not givin' up on them it's just that I thought it would be nice." Anna and Bates were coming down the stairs as she finished, followed by Ethel and Mr. Carson.

"Oh go on then." He said with a shrug. "I'll go with you Daisy. I reckon I'll light a candle for Mr. Crawley…and your sweetheart." Now the whole of the kitchen stopped. Anna and Bates both looked at each other, then at Thomas.

"Would you really Thomas?"

"I said I would, didn't I?" he snapped, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Goin' for a smoke."

"You just went for one." Daisy said

"I'm goin' for another, what's it to you?"

"There's no need to snap." Bates said,

"I don't remember you bein' in charge." Thomas grumbled. "I'll speak as I like." And he stalked off, slamming the door behind him.

"What's with him?" Ethel asked,

"Mind your own business." O'Brian said.

~O~

**Later That Night**

Once the staff had their dinner and the dishes were cleaned, Daisy went to find Thomas. He was out in the courtyard still, two or three cigarettes at his feet.

"You missed dinner." She said, "I saved you back some." He didn't say anything, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Did you mean what you said, taking me to the church, to light a candle with me?"

"Suppose I did." He said, and he looked over at her.

"Why?" she asked. "I mean…you never liked William before."

"I never said that changed." He said with a shrug.

"I don't understand." She said with a frown.

"Look do you want someone to go with you or not?" he asked.

"I do, but I want to know why you're coming?"

"Just because I don't like him doesn't mean I want him dead." He looked at her, then down at his shoes for a moment. He thought about what Lady Sybil had told him earlier, and about a long-ago conversation he and William had. He could still hear William's words

"_You'll probably be closer to home than I will." _

"_Who's fault is that?"_

"_I never said it was anyone's, I just wanted to ask you…if anything happens to me…can't you at least try and look after Daisy?"_

"_Won't she marry you before you go?"_

"_I mean as a brother." He said. Thomas shook his head, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. "Just…if anything happens…Daisy means the world to me."  
>"Why me? Why not Mr. Bates, or Mr. Carson?" <em>

"_I don't know." William said, "I guess…I figured it'd be pretty sorry if you didn't have anyone either." They were both quiet for a minute. _

"_Well who says I'll come back?" Thomas said, and William looked over at him, smirking.  
>"Then I guess neither of us will have to worry." He sobered, "But will you? Look after her I mean? I just-"<em>

"_Let it be will you?" Thomas snapped, "War'll be over soon anyway." Neither of them believed that, but it seemed to be the thing everyone was saying when they got tired of worrying, even if it probably wasn't true. "Just keep your head down and get back here. Then you can take care of her yourself." _

He was brought back to the present by the wafting smoke from his cigarette. His gaze drifted over to his gloved hand, and he kept turning over in his head what William had asked him.

"Daisy…" he said. She'd started to head back inside, but she turned now.

"What?" Thomas opened his mouth, about to tell her what William had confided in him. But was it what Daisy wanted? Maybe she wouldn't even want his help. In any case if William was dead, which he probably was, Thomas supposed he could show William some respect and do what he asked. "Was there any gravy left?" Daisy looked at him for a moment, her wide eyes almost smiling at him.

"Yes there was a little bit. I'll heat it up for you." And she hurried back inside. In a moment, Thomas stepped on his cigarette before starting after her.

~O~

**The Next Day**

Though the day had started out gray and raining, the sun did make an appearance in the morning and by tea, it seemed to be out to stay.

"Seems we'll have good weather for tonight." Mary said, helping Sybil change the bed sheets in one of the common rooms. "How are you?"

"Better." Sybil nodded, and looked up at Mary from her work "I'm looking forward to it. I think it's what everyone needs."

"Have you heard what the young lieutenants are singing?"

"Yes, though I don't know what Granny will think of it."

"It was a nice idea, to have the concert outside." Edith said, hearing their conversation. She went to a bedside table "Where does Corporal Edward Trenton stay?"

"Why?"

"He asked for a book from the library, I forgot to mark it in Papa's ledger."

"He's the last bed on the left." Sybil nodded.

"Here, Anna, can you take these down? Just the one basket." Mary handed the dirty sheets to the passing maid.

"Yes ladyship."

"Was there any post today?" Sybil asked, following Mary into what used to be the drawing room. Now it was lined with beds, right now empty of patients. On such a fine day they would be out, getting what fresh air they could.

"Of course." She fluffed a pillow before tossing it on the bed and turned to the next cot.

"Help me with these sheets will you? Captain Groves had one of his fits again." Sybil tugged at the corners and Mary took the other end.

"How on earth did a man with epilepsy make it into the army?" Mary wondered, watching the men through the windows as she bent over, tugging at the bedclothes.

"He might've been able to hide them during peace time." Sybil shrugged. "Battle must have triggered them I suppose." Setting the dirty linens in the hamper, she glanced up. "What about the post?"

"Nothing really worth mentioning." She shrugged, "A stack for all the patients, the usual amount for Mama and Papa."

"Hm."

"Sybil! Mary!" it was Edith, Ethel behind her.

"What is it?"

"Papa wants us. He's just received a letter from someone in Matthew and William's regiment." They looked at each other before hurrying down to the small parlor.

"Who is it from?" Sybil asked, hurrying into the parlor, Edith and Mary close behind, arms still full of linens.

"It's from a Corporal St. John, from Matthew's regiment." Robert answered. "They wish to inform us that they received word this morning that after some period of time-" his voice seemed to be muffled in Sybil's ears, for as he was reading, she had looked out the window, noticing something.

"What is it?" Mary asked, noticing her.

"It's a man." Sybil said, moving toward the window, a bundle of sheets still in her arms. "Soldier by the looks of him." She stopped suddenly, moving back to the window.

"Is he injured?" Mary asked, Sybil shook her head. "Sybil?" No. That was impossible. It _couldn't_ be…"Sybil?" Mary straightened "What's the matter with you?" Without another word she dropped the sheets, hurrying from the room, her boots clattering down the hall. "Sybil!" Mary went to the window this time to see what startled her. Robert stopped reading.

"Is that a whistle?" he asked suddenly.

"_William!"_ from the servant's entrance came such a shriek that they all started.

"What was that?" they all hurried out front, looking over to the servant's entrance where. Little Daisy stood there in the hedge way, staring out to the drive. The other servants had crowded around behind her to see. The figure broke into a run, seeing the kitchen maid. Forgetting she wasn't allowed out front, Daisy bolted, red in the face and cheeks streaked with tears when she finally reached him.

"It's you!" she gasped before he kissed her soundly. All too soon they were ambushed by the others. Mrs. Patmore was holding his face, Anna and Bates were squeezing in to try and grasp his arms

"How wonderful! Oh it's wonderful!" Anna was crying. Mrs. Hughes' chin was wobbling as if she were about to cry, she touched the back of his head, as if to make her believe he was truly there.

"You're home again-" she said before Mr. Carson came into view, broad and stern usually, this demeanor was gone from him. His eyes softened, and he was smiling.

"Welcome home my boy," and he shook his hand. Miss O'Brian was there, and she nodded to him.

"For heaven's sake, let Daisy in." she said to the others "She's his best girl, not you lot."

"Excuse me." A voice from behind all of them made them stop. Realizing it was Lord Grantham, they all stepped back, bowing their heads. He didn't seem bothered by the hysterics previously displayed. He held out his hand to William, smiling. "Welcome home William."

"Thank you sir." The Crawley women greeted him with smiles,

"We're so glad you're back." Mary said,

"Lady Sybil." William said, and the youngest turned "Captain Crawley gave me this for you." He held out to her the whistle she'd given him, a little more battered than she remembered. Hands trembling, she took it from his outstretched hand. She couldn't speak, finding tears smarted in her eyes, staring at the little tin whistle. Steeling herself, she looked up at William.

"Where is he?" Sybil asked, and William turned to face her. He opened his mouth, when suddenly his eyes glanced over her shoulder, and he began to smile. The others saw, and turned. Cora grabbed Robert's arm, a hand over her mouth.

"_It's a long way, to Tipperary, it's a long way to go!_

_Goodbye-"_

She knew at one point she'd started walking towards him, that he'd stopped singing. When he began to run, she was already sprinting towards him, screaming and crying as her skirt and apron bunched around her knees. Matthew's pack collided with the dirt; he'd flung it off his shoulders as he wrapped her in his arms.

"I knew you were alive!" she gasped through her tears "I knew you would come back!" It was harder to say who did more kissing, but an equal amount was exchanged between the two. It didn't seem to matter what his lips met, her forehead, neck, cheeks. It was only so good to at last hold her.

"I told you I would come back." He said at last, "I will always come back to you." The others came running, and Cora didn't even bother to caution the girls from their unladylike cheering as they hurried to welcome Matthew home.

The war was far from over, and in a week or so, Matthew and William would have to go back to France, where they would face many more horrors, and find that man has his limits. William would not know in that week at Downton that he would come home deaf, nor could Matthew know he would lose his left arm protecting the young footman. But that is a story for another time.


End file.
